


Victor

by cuethe_pulse



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t sex. Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [zosan kink meme](http://community.livejournal.com/zosan_kinkmeme/491.html); [prompt here](http://community.livejournal.com/zosan_kinkmeme/491.html?thread=2795#t2795).

Sudsy dishes clinked together in the sink with each rolling thrust of the intertwined hips. Zoro rocked, hard, pushing Sanji into the counter, his knuckles whitening as he gripped at the wood. He was getting unbearably close, but doing his damnedest not to show it; it was best, he’d learned, to let Sanji think he was winning.  
  
He wasn’t entirely sure how this had started, this competition of sorts. It wasn’t sex. Not really. It was a _let-me-use-you-and-you-can-use-me_ , yet another way for them to try to one-up each other. The first time it’d happened— _Sanji cornering him in the bathhouse, humping against his thigh with intense desperation, and running off the second he’d come in his pants_ —Zoro’d figured it was just Sanji freaking out over getting off on a guy. But then it became the norm—they rutted against one another like the hormone-driven men they were until one of them came, and the other was abandoned as the loser with a rather painful erection. It was frustrating at times, but it was them—rivalry and keeping score and challenging each other.  
  
Sanji’s breath hitched in his ear and Zoro picked up the pace, hips bucking relentlessly as the arousal in him tightened, tightened, tightened and released in a burst that left him seeing spots behind his closed eyelids. ( _Victor: Future World’s Greatest Swordsman Zoro_ ) Soapy water spilled out of the sink with the force of his last thrust; Sanji swore, either from the loss or the back of his shirt getting wet. Probably both.   
  
Zoro took a few steps back, grinning as Sanji’s hips tried to follow him. “That puts me in the lead, doesn’t it?”   
  
“Only if you can’t count,” Sanji grumbled, adjusting his trousers in vain. “Now scram.”  
  
Zoro sauntered out of the galley, the night breeze cooling his flushed face and neck, feeling quite satisfied, despite the mess in his pants.  
  


* * *

  
Nothing else had changed.  
  
Sanji’s _Poitrine Shoot_ had Zoro’s boots skidding on the deck of the Sunny. He gritted his teeth around Wadou, managing to keep himself upright, his swords steady. There was nothing particularly new or unusual about this fight, although, to be honest, Zoro couldn’t really remember what they were even fighting about. He’d just woken up from a nap and, yawning, had tossed out a casually insulting remark about the cook as he’d happened to pass by; next thing he knew, there was a foot flying at his face and he fell into his role without a second thought.   
  
Around them, everyone else went their business, sparing them only one or two glances—amused, exasperated, wary. No one looked long enough to see what Zoro saw: the banked heat in Sanji’s eyes. Something in his groin stirred in response and he knew what they would be doing later, when they found a secure place to be alone. He marveled, briefly, at how their secret, frenzied competitions seemed to add a whole new level of intensity to everything else they did, seemed to make it better. Though…not exactly satisfying.   
  
A kick to the back of his shoulder caught him off guard, and he stopped thinking about that.  
  


* * *

  
Zoro was damn thankful it was such a quiet night. He couldn’t see much of the ocean with Sanji in his lap. Not that he could even bring himself to _care_ about the ocean with Sanji in his lap. Sanji was grinding against him with a painful slowness and Zoro lifted his hips slightly off the wooden bench as he arched into him, seeking more of the friction that was making his toes curl in his boots.  
  
Though the point was to come first, there were certain things they couldn’t help to do to each other. Little things. Zoro holding Sanji’s waist, his thumbs digging into the tops of Sanji’s inner thighs. Gusts of Sanji’s breath making Zoro’s earrings jingle. Quiet, bitten back groans, gasps, and grunts. Sanji’s grip on his hair.  
  
“Nnh.” Zoro bowed his head a little, looked down between them. He watched the gradually quickening movement of Sanji’s hips, the bulges in their pants rubbing together, hard. This thing between them was just a release, he knew; but fuck if it wasn’t the hottest fucking release he’d ever known. Desire was making him dizzy, lightheaded, and he knew he wasn’t too far away from—  
  
A hiss in his ear and another rough grind against his trapped erection, and the man in his lap was going tellingly still. ( _Victor: stupid idiot love cook Sanji_ ) For one brief moment, as Sanji savored the bliss of orgasm, he clutched tight, fingernails scraping faintly at Zoro’s scalp; and Zoro found his nose, the tiniest bit of his lips, pressed against skin—a space between Sanji’s neck and collarbone. The cook’s scent (sea salt, spices, smoke) was strong there, and Zoro was thinking of that scent when he was alone, finishing himself off with his hand down his pants.  
  


* * *

  
Thoughts. Thoughts rushed into Zoro’s head like the water rushing into his nose and ears as he submerged himself in the aquarium. He swam toward one of the bigger fish, net in hand, trying to concentrate on catching dinner for Sanji, but the damn thoughts wouldn’t let him.  
  
Something had happened to him the last few times he’d won in their private competitions. Instead of feeling smirkish and wanting to gloat as usual, he’d found himself wanting to stay, stay and see Sanji through to the end. He hadn’t, of course. Hell, the presence of such an urge had freaked him out enough so he couldn’t do anything but leave. He didn’t know what to make of it. Or…he _did_ know, but didn’t _want_ to.   
  
_Goddammit._   
  
Sanji was waiting for him when he surfaced and accepted the proffered net with a nod of silent thanks. Zoro watched him walk away; his hips, his long legs, his—  
  
Zoro closed his eyes with a sigh and let himself go under again.  
  


* * *

  
“Oi, where are you off to?”  
  
Zoro stopped a few feet away from the open inn room door and looked over his shoulder at Sanji, who was shedding his suit jacket and draping it across the back of a chair. The other guys had left to explore the town, and he’d been planning to go out and find the local tavern. “Where do you think?”  
  
Sanji slipped off his belt, expression turning suggestive, and sat down on one of the beds. “I’ll go with you, after…” He didn’t have to finish. “Loser buys the drinks?”  
  
Zoro wasn’t sure why the cook was so horny, but he supposed it didn’t matter; he could already feel his pants growing tight. “Sure,” he said, kicking off his boots.  
  
They hadn’t done this on a bed before. Zoro slid his thigh between Sanji’s legs and curled his fingers around the sheets beneath them, trying to push aside the feeling that this was very much like sex. Sanji’s hand pressed against the small of his back, brought their bodies flush together, their erections lining up and hardening next to each other.   
  
Zoro felt his cheeks and neck grow warm as he rocked his hips downward. This was different. Too different. They should’ve been in the chair ( _hips straddled, front chair legs lifting off the floor_ ) or against the wall ( _each thrust making a tell-tale noise_ ) or even on the fucking floor, anywhere but on this bed.   
  
This bed was intimate. He felt so _close_ to Sanji. He was on fire; his buried his burning face in Sanji’s neck as a leg wrapped around his waist, holding him there as Sanji’s hips bucked. Their movements were fast and frantic, and Zoro was going to come much sooner than he usually did. Much sooner than he wanted to. He couldn’t help it. This was the most aroused he’d ever been. The tight closeness, the sound of the bedsprings squeaking and the shallow pants in his ear, the heavy heat between his thighs and Sanji’s answering heat pulsing by his own.  
  
Zoro suddenly wished they were naked. And it was that thought that pushed him over the edge. He tensed, went limp, and felt Sanji doing the exact same thing beneath him. ( _Victor: …_ )  
  
For several minutes, they didn’t move. Sanji’s fingers on the back of his shirt and the leg around his waist tightened, released, tightened, released, slowly. Zoro kept his eyes closed until he caught his breath and lifted his head; Sanji’s visible blue eye was watching him, guardedly, and Zoro struggled to keep his expression blank as they disentangled.   
  
He changed his pants in the washroom, his head spinning. Whatever had just happened…he wasn’t sure what it meant for their competition, but he was sure that he’d liked it. Coming _with_ Sanji was much more satisfying than coming _before_ him, despite the lack of bragging rights. He wanted it to happen again. And again and again and again. He’d fallen, like an idiot, so it didn’t matter whether he won or lost their little battles; he’d surrendered something that couldn’t be taken back. Sanji would always have the advantage.  
  
Sanji was slipping on his jacket when he came out, steadily smoking a cigarette. “Guess it was a tie, huh?”  
  
Zoro raised, lowered one nonchalant shoulder. “So you buy my drink and I’ll buy yours.”  
  
Sanji glanced at him and nodded. “All right.”  
  
“And we should—” He stopped, uncertain (which he _hated_ , so he forced himself to continue). “—tie more often.”  
  
“Yeah?” Zoro watched Sanji’s eyebrow arch, his cheeks color, and he waited, his heart paused. “…Yeah.”   
  
Zoro supposed he was the victor, after all.


End file.
